


Statement #0181604 - "Postmarked"

by AutopsyTurvy



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Statement Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-18 18:28:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21281261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutopsyTurvy/pseuds/AutopsyTurvy
Summary: Statement of Zea Mays, regarding their experiences after visiting a restaurant in the Netherlands. Statement recorded direct from subject, 16th of April, 2018. Statement begins.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 15





	Statement #0181604 - "Postmarked"

[tape recorder clicks on]

ARCHIVIST

Sorry, just… there we are.

ZEA

Oh. That's neat. Retro. Very… solid looking. You don't have problems with data degradation though, recording like that?

ARCHIVIST

Not with this method, no. Let's just say other formats have proven... far more unreliable.

ZEA

Huh. Alright, well then should I just— 

ARCHIVIST

One moment. Statement of Zea Mays, regarding their experiences after visiting a restaurant in the Netherlands. Statement recorded direct from subject, 16th of April, 2018. Statement begins.

ZEA

Oh, I should- now?

ARCHIVIST

Yes. What happened that you came here to talk about?

ZEA

Oh. Well, I mean, I guess I should clarify first off, I wasn't really _visiting_ a restaurant. I guess I was, if you want to get technical, but that makes it sound like I was eating there, and I wasn't. I was only stopping in, briefly, to make a delivery. I'm a mail carrier, you see. 

It's really mostly junk mail and blue envelopes from the tax offices these days. But all that walking, well... It's like a gym membership that pays you, albeit poorly, and it's pleasant enough I guess, if the weather's nice and you've got a strong back and a sturdy bicycle. 

I do a route that covers mostly some big apartment buildings, a couple large offices, a busy train station, a few row houses, and a lot of little shops and restaurants. It's an odd route because so much of it is commercial. I'm always in a hurry when I'm delivering, because I'm only paid for as long as they think it _should_ take, not how long it _actually_ takes and it's a generic average really— more based on residential neighborhoods. So having to walk into actual businesses for my route, waiting for a polite moment to hand a clerk the day's mail or slip around someone to put it by the counter takes longer and I get paid less. 

Please, for the sake of your mail carrier, get a box outside the door, clearly labeled with the number and name, and without a spring so strong on the flap that it tries to take my fingers off pushing it open. If there's no box outside and a business is open, we can't just shove it through the slot on the door to let it fall on the floor to be stepped on by the next customer, so it has to be carried inside and handed to someone or left somewhere obvious, which slows me down, and requires… human interaction.

(a soft groan)

It's just so _tedious_!I'm handing them _trash_, but I have to say "Alstublieft!" when handing it over, because Dutch _requires_ that you say "here you go" or, literally, "if you please!" for politeness when handing someone something, and then they say back, in Dutch, "Thank you, ma'am, have a nice day!" and I bristle quietly inside because why are we bringing gender into this interaction, _honestly_? And I force a polite smile and say, "You too!" and leave, slowing me down and following this inane social script and constantly misgendered, all to give them _garbage._

It got a lot more pleasant when I finally got a set of wireless headphones, so I could listen to music while I did my route. I'm somewhat hard of hearing and can read lips, so I can still respond to people if they speak to me and I can see them, but I don't have to actually hear them at all, or even my own voice when I reply. It's like it's happening on a screen in front of me with subtitles, but I'm somewhere else, just watching it happen in my own little world of music swirling around me. There's a barrier between me and the world, made of high-tech noise cancelling and high-tempo music to keep up the pace.

I march up and down the streets as fast as I can, no matter the weather, shoving paper into holes in doors and boxes for people to just throw away. I once sorted and delivered this giant stack of flyers, printed on glossy, hard to recycle coated paper that can't be composted. They were from the water company saying, 'Join us in a greener future, sign up for email contact to reduce paper usage!' 99% of the mail is printed to be glanced at, ignored, and flicked into the bin. It's _disgusting_. Sometimes it'd be five copies of the same plastic-wrapped flyers to the same person, doomed for the landfill.

But junk mail was most of what I delivered, and that was all I ever delivered to, uh… the place I came here to talk to you about. Where all of this started, I think?

It was on the Leeuwenstraat, this pretty busy little shopping street in the centre of town with hairdressers and shoe stores, a supermarket, and a popular dive bar. No cars, except for deliveries in certain off-hours. Not even bicycles were allowed down that street. Just loads of foot traffic. People always streaming past, as it's the most direct way to get to that whole side of town if you were walking. 

Outwardly, this place looked just like most other little restaurants on my route. Big pane of glass with the name of the place on it, glass door, you know, just… a place. I'd been past there a hundred times, as I live just a few minutes away on the other side of the train station and go shopping in town. It didn't look weird or ominous, or give me a bad feeling. It didn't give me _any _feeling, really. I'd never taken note of it. It was a fish and chips shop, and I'm not much one for fish, especially the way the Dutch eat it.

…You know, for the life of me I can't remember the name of the place, though I guess that's not remarkable for me. I once forgot my own nephew's name in an immigration interview. Nerves, or something. I want to say it started with an "F"? The shop, I mean, not my nephew. He's called Joshua, I remember it now!

(nervous laugh)

But maybe I'm just thinking 'fish and chips' and that starts with “F”? I don't know.

Like I said, I only ever delivered junk mail there. That wasn't remarkable, as I only ever delivered junk mail to _most_ places on my route. It was all very generic, too, though that also wasn't unusual either, as when you sign up for a Dutch business license, you're put on a public register and start getting all kinds of adverts for office supplies and bulk bricks of pre-ground coffee. Never any of the blue envelopes from the tax office to there though, which _is_ unusual, as you get the junk mail to the same address that your business is registered to.

Inside really didn't strike me as strange at first, because at a glance, everything seemed completely normal. Counter for food preparation, a doorway leading into a back room for storage of… big boxes of mayonnaise or whatever— and an area with tables and chairs if you wanted to eat there. Same basic template as a dozen other places I delivered to. And I wasn't really paying attention, just flipping through the stack held on my forearm for the next number. 

I think what first caught my eye was how _clean_ the place was. It wasn't the well-scrubbed clean of a newly-built or renovated place, but it was completely pristine. Yet it also looked quite dated, the style a good two or three decades old. Like one of those nostalgic 1950s diners, only it's somehow nostalgic for the 1990’s? That kind of inoffensive bland sponge-painted pastel wallpaper that everyone's aunt had in their dining room in 1992, you know? But everything looked brand new, and as soon as it caught my eye, I started realizing how odd it was. No chips in the paint or spots on the wallpaper, or scratches on the stainless steel counters. Like everything in the place had been in storage for thirty years and just installed, and then polished until everything gleamed, and then shined again. Not just clean, not just new, but _perfect_. Too perfect, like… like a 3D render of a room, and you can tell it's not real because there's no scratches or wonky bits anywhere. But… an actual fish and chips shop that I was standing in. It was… surreal. There was no more clutter than a single napkin dispenser, completely full, and one condiment rack of ketchup, mustard, salt, and pepper. Every other surface was completely empty, and spotless.

I noticed the chairs then too. They were completely… straight. Like, everything was right angles. No curve to the edge of the seat, no gentle splaying of the legs to make it more stable, or a slight lean to the back, just… Like if you were drawing a chair playing Pictionary. They looked super uncomfortable to sit in, and they were all painted matte black. Like t-the suggestion of chairs? The concept of chairs without actually being useful to sit in. I guess that sounds weird. I have a bit of a fanciful imagination sometimes. Maybe they were just… modern style, bought by someone who cared more that they looked cool than were nice to sit on. I don't know.

There was also no sign of food anywhere. Not a crumb to be seen, and all of the containers set into the counter were covered, and looked unused. No lingering smell of frying oil like you'd expect in a place that sold fish and chips, and none of the thin, sticky golden sheen of grease covering everything that little shops like that always seem to get after a while.

I also noticed how large the place was, too. Most shops like this were cramped takeaways, with no seating at all, or maybe a couple of rickety tables and chairs you could sit at to eat your fried food if you really wanted to. Barely any room to get in and out if you weren't the only customer. Everything crammed behind a small counter brimming with displays of candy bars and breath mints in addition to twenty types of food to be deep fried… But this place was massive in comparison. Their rent on such a busy street must've been ridiculous, because they had space for a good dozen small tables and chairs, and a huge counter.

There were never any customers, which was a little curious, as I usually did my deliveries to that street around lunchtime, and the place was clearly open. It didn't look like the kind of place that would be dinner-only, either. The door was always propped open, which, now that I think of it, seems a little odd too, as it was late autumn, frost crusting my bike seat in the mornings, and quite cold throughout the day.

There was also almost never anyone in at all. Mostly, it was just silent and empty and I'd leave their stack of junk mail on top of the counter and leave. Every once in a while, I'd spot an employee in the back room, barely visible through the doorway, puttering around, always with their back to me, wearing a very clean, new-looking uniform. They never seemed to notice or care I was there, going about their business and ignoring me.

I mean, that was fine with me. I didn't _want_ to talk to anyone. I just wanted to get done and get home, out of the constant cold, wet grey drizzle of a Dutch autumn. 

But it was just weird.

I don't _look_ like a postal worker— I mean, I wear my regular clothes— and the only sign I'm not just some random person hungry for fish and chips is the shoulder bag with the mail company logo and the mail in my hand, I guess. 

But they never looked at me at all, not even the one time when I lingered, just inside the doorway one time, shuffling through the mail to find the next address in the stack before heading back out and adjusting the strap on my bag. 

And I watched the employee out of the corner of my eye as I did. They didn't look back at me at all. 

Now, of course, I'm not expecting someone in food service to snap to attention just because a customer arrives. I've never worked in food but I've done retail and I have every sympathy for someone in a service role dealing with the public, especially when there's matters of cleanliness, hygiene, and food safety to take into account, too. If they need to finish something up, that's fine by me, and I'll wait patiently.

But… they never even glanced back. I stood there for, well, I don't know, a minute? I was done shuffling my stuff, and the music in my ears was still bouncing along, pulling at my feet… but I was curious now. 

Maybe they were hard of hearing, but— Well, that's something I know firsthand, and I usually try to angle myself so I can see if I need to be aware of other people.

Maybe they just didn't give a shit? I mean. That's fair.

But like I said, I was curious. So I just stood there, watching them. They were looking at some stacks of cardboard boxes on shelves, moving side to side now and then-- looked like they were doing inventory, maybe? I don't know. It was a good minute or so I watched them, and then they stepped out of view, further into the back room. So I kept waiting, and looked around a little more.

I noticed then that behind the counter, there was… nothing. Nothing on the walls. No cabinets or soda machines, no storage for supplies, just a blank, clean, wallpapered wall. There wasn't even a menu board, and _that_ was really odd. I mean, I was thinking, “Is it like one of those weird concept places where all they sell is grilled cheese and that's it, only it's fish and chips? Were the weird chairs and dated furnishings some attempt at being quirky?”

I also thought maybe it was some sort of… money laundering kind of thing? Like the restaurant was just a cover for… something. But if you're going to do that, why leave the door open and unlocked, and pick a spot on one of the busiest streets in town? There's a half dozen little side streets just on my route alone where it's a lot more quiet and you won't get any stoned teenagers wandering in wanting food. Rent's probably a lot cheaper too.

I got to thinking then; what I was even going to do when they came back, if they noticed me and started coming out to the counter to see what I wanted? Because I didn't _want_ anything, I was just standing there, staring into the back room of this fish and chips shop with an armload of mail still to be delivered, and wasting time, and I'd have to do that awkward "Oh, ha ha nevermind," handwave thing at them, and it'd just be weird. And if it was some kind of crime thing, I didn't want any part of that. Not my business, and probably best not to look overly curious.

So I turned around, and walked out, keeping my head down against the wind and separating out several things I had for the next place: a tiny hairdresser's, where the interior always smells of bleach and everyone always turns to look as I come in, and multiple employees call a, “Thanks!” to me on my way out. I didn't look up from the stuff in my hands.

I pushed the door open and stepped inside, the bleach smell sharp in the air, and I laid the mail on the counter, looking up to offer a muttered, "Fijne dag," with a socially-acceptable smile when I realized… There was nobody there. The lights were on, the door was unlocked, it was warm inside, but the employee with the glasses who once complimented my hair and who always was there and always smiled at me when I came in…. They weren't there, nor was anyone else. Nobody getting a haircut or sweeping the floors or waiting for their turn. I started getting a very uneasy feeling, and I looked around for a second before I went back outside.

And there was nobody there either. It was noon on a Tuesday in the middle of town, and just a minute ago this street had been full of people, dozens of people, walking along with their kids and dogs and bicycles. But now it was as empty as if it were three in the morning, with not a soul to be seen. I looked left and right, there was just… no one. I just stood there, confused, not really understanding at all what I was seeing. 

I started walking again, toward the next place I had mail for. I already had it in my hand, but I walked right past it, looking down the street that way, because that way was the train station, just past a busy road. I could see the road. And the station.

The road was empty, with no cars or buses or taxis. There were no people waiting to cross, no constant stream of bicycles in and out of the cycle path in the tunnel under the train station. 

I kept walking, and I could see there were no people on the wide steps leading up to the train station. I crossed the deserted road, and started up the steps at the station. From there, I could see the bus stops beside station, where buses arrive and depart every few minutes. 

There were no buses, and nobody waiting for them.

I walked into the station, and the automatic doors slid open to let me in, but I was alone. I could see the platforms ahead of me and they all stood empty. No trains. No people. 

I realized then I was still wearing my headphones, still hearing the happy bouncy music, and I yanked them off. 

It was utterly silent, except for the tinny music still playing around my shoulders.

I yelped when I heard the loud 'bing, boooong!' chime of the announcement system, and then the automatic voice played a pre-recorded message about the 12:28 to Utrecht being delayed five minutes. I looked up at the screen with the departure times, and all of the trains were delayed five minutes, with little red 'plus 5' flashing next to each one. As I watched, one by one, down the list, they changed from five minutes delayed to ten, still flashing red.

Overhead the announcement system chimed again, and I turned and ran back out. I shoved all the mail back in my bag and ran down the steps, grabbed in my pocket for my phone, and I just kept running, back toward where I parked my bike. I don't know who I was going to call… The police? My kids' schools to make sure they were alright? 

I fumbled the cover open and was trying to see the screen in the grey glare as I dashed across the street, and then suddenly the blare of a horn, and I looked up to see that I'd nearly just gotten run over by someone in a little red car, as I had run across the street without looking. There was a delivery van behind that, and a whole stream of cars behind them. And all around me there were people again, all staring at me: the dumbass so distracted by their phone that they'd nearly died…

And I just stood there, holding my phone, gaping at all of them. I turned around and there were people sitting on the train station steps, smoking. Someone was handing out flyers and bikes whizzed past constantly. People stopped staring, too busy to gawk, and pushed past me to get where they needed to go.

I- I looked down at my phone, and put it away again, and I walked back and took the mail out of my bag, and did the rest of my route, shaking and cold. 

I thought… I thought I'd just imagined it. I mean. I don't _usually_ hallucinate or anything, but I've never been the most _stable_ person, I guess? And there was this one time, months ago when I was cleaning my house, where these little… worm things started showing up out of nowhere just, everywhere, all over the floor whenever I'd turn around, so randomly that I thought… maybe I was seeing things? I thought I was losing it until my son came in and said he saw them too, and then I didn't find anymore.

And, well, I still had mail to deliver, so I did.

I told myself I was just stressed and tired, because I _definitely_ am. I went home and I had a hot shower and a stiff drink, and hugged my kids extra hard after school, and tried to put it out of my mind.

(sniffles, chair creaks)

But then, um. It- it kept happening. Just for a few moments, but it—

I went to the dentist to get my teeth cleaned. I checked in before my appointment, and I had a few minutes so I went to the restroom, just beside the waiting room. When I came out, nobody was there. The receptionists were gone, the two people who'd also been waiting were gone. I walked down the hall and looked through the glass into the exam rooms but there were no dentists or hygienists or patients or anyone. So I ran downstairs and outside, and… I mean, my dentist is kind of in the middle of nowhere anyway, so not seeing people out there isn't unusual. But there was nobody in the other buildings in the complex. Nobody in the parking lot. Nobody walking their dog on the trails nearby. I… just stood there, trying to see _anything _other than me that was alive. Trees and blackberry bushes, yeah, but I didn't even see any birds or insects.

And then my phone rang and it was the receptionist at the dentist, wanting to know where I was. And I… I stammered an excuse that I got queasy and needed some fresh air but that I'd be right back up, and I went in, and everyone was there, and I got my teeth cleaned and got told I needed to floss more, and I went home on the bus as usual.

Stuff like that. It just… started happening. Just for a few minutes at a time. I'd turn the corner on an aisle in the grocery store and the place would be empty. Lights still on, freezers full of frozen pizzas still humming, but no people at the registers or anywhere inside. I did get out my phone once and tried to make a call but there was no signal… in the middle of a town with great 4G coverage.

And then—

(a long, shaky breath)

Then it happened when I was with my kids at the swimming pool. My son was going down the water slide over and over, so I had my daughter in the shallow end, practicing putting her face underwater. She splutters and rubs her face every time but she's so brave and dedicated, she just keeps trying. So I was counting for her, trying to get up to seven seconds. She'd just gone under, and I turned back for a moment to check the big clock on the wall to see what time it was, and I was counting out loud, "Two hippopotamus, three hippopotamus, four hippopotamus…" and I looked back and… she was gone. 

Everyone was gone. 

The pool was empty and the surface of the water was completely still except for the ripples around my body in the water. I looked over to the water slide, but I already knew there'd be no one there. My son wasn't there.

And I… I broke a little, then. I didn't know what to do. Before it'd only ever been just me, my kids hadn't been with me. But this time… And my daughter still doesn't really know how to swim and can't be unattended and I…

(rustling, a long sniffle)

Sorry, I just— I- I started screaming and yelling their names, and I crashed through the water to get out of the pool, and just started frantically looking for them and…

(short, humourless laugh)

You know how they say don't run at the pool? 

Well, it's still slippery, even when everyone around you disappears. I slipped… I guess. 

I don't remember. I remember being terrified and then nothing and then waking up as they wheeled me out into an ambulance in the parking lot, bleeding from where I'd fallen and hit my head on the floor. I had a concussion and my kids were crying and scared, shivering as they followed in the parking lot in their swimsuits, covered in towels and coats that kind strangers had given them. 

They kept me overnight in the hospital… and when I got up to go pee at two in the morning, the person who'd been sleeping in the other bed in the shared room was gone. The nurse's station was empty. I pressed the call button and nobody answered. I was dizzy and confused and tired, and I just… went back to bed and cried and fell asleep. 

They say there's no lasting damage, but I'll always have this gnarly forehead scar, so that's nice.

I- I wanted to tell the doctors about the rest of it. Why it happened, what's been happening. Maybe I've got a brain tumor or something, and that's why I keep thinking everything's disappeared. But if I didn't, if it wasn't medical then it must be mental and I can't… I don't have _time_ to be crazy. I have too much to do, and I have two kids counting on me.

And I don't think I'm crazy. I think something very strange is going on. 

I went back to the fish and chips shop but it was… different. Normal inside. Two employees, food behind the counter, people inside, newspapers on the tables, a dingy menu sign hung behind the counter. Even the _chairs_ were different. When I walked in, both employees and all the customers looked up and just _stared_ at me with these pale, accusing eyes. 

I don't know what I was expecting anyway, going back. But I turned around and left, because it was clear I wasn't getting any help there. And I certainly was _not_ hungry for fish and chips.

I remember when I was a kid, my dad talked about this place sometimes, your Institute. He was, um, a bit of a kook, but also really brilliant when it came to… weird stuff. Perpetual motion machines and weird experiments with computer programs to try to talk to ghosts. It took me a while to remember the name of this place, but I looked you up and thought- maybe they can help, or know what's going on and can make it _stop._

I mean… do _you_ think I'm crazy?

ARCHIVIST

Well, I'm not really qualified to—

ZEA

But does this sound like… I mean, has this sort of thing happened to someone before? You'd know about it if it did, wouldn't you? The Institute?

ARCHIVIST

I'm not aware of this exact circumstances being a common phenomenon but I'm sure we can check our records and--

ZEA

Well, alright, I guess you then… send out an investigator or a…?

ARCHIVIST

Ah. No. Not usually. We don’t really _actively_ investigate. We can cross-reference based on commonalities and do some research, but there's not an investigator as such, no.

ZEA

Oh. Well, alright, cross-referencing and research, then... um, you've got a database, can we search? Do you have a laptop or…?

ARCHIVIST

Well, ah, no, our records are written and taped. There's no search engine, I'm afraid. It will take some sifting through. I've got your information, and we'll have a look and get back to you.

ZEA

… That's it? You don't even have one of those old card catalogs or something? Is there _no_ filing system? 

ARCHIVIST

(wearily)

It's a work in progress.

ZEA

Then what am I supposed to do? I'm terrified of letting my kids out of my sight. Every day when I say goodbye to them for school, I'm shaking because I don't know if they'll disappear. I brought a seven and eleven year old with me on an international flight to get here, because I was afraid to leave them. They're waiting just outside the door. I didn't want to leave them there, even that far. But I didn't want them in here for this. I didn't want to scare them. I mean. So far every time, everyone's come back eventually but… 

I barely _blinked_ that whole flight, by the way. Sure didn't go to the bathroom, because I was white-knuckled terrified of what would happen if… _that_ happened while we were in the air. All the passengers and crew gone at once except for me. What would happen to the pilot? What would happen to the _plane?_ Hm?

ARCHIVIST

Oh. Well- uh, I… I don't know.

ZEA

Neither do I. But we have a return flight on Wednesday.

[tape recorder clicks off]

[tape recorder clicks on]

ARCHIVIST

Well. Nice to know Peter Lukas is keeping busy running a fish and chips shop in his spare time. 

(a low chuckle)

In seriousness, it does seem a rather cut-and-dried encounter with some aspect of The Lonely, though the mention of unusual worms some time in the past is… concerning. Isolated reports like these are not uncommon, some part of one or more of the entities' aspects just cropping up without obvious connection to some larger nefarious plot or ritual. Perhaps this is how one of the more worrying nexuses of power gets their start. One day it's a normal fish and chips shop, and then it's an _evil_ fish and chips shop that frightens random mail carriers, and eventually grows into a whole fish and chips and existential dread franchise? 

Well. I suppose we'll see.

I've done some followup and it seems as though there is indeed a fish and chips shop on the Leeuwenstraat as Mx. Mays reported, though street view maps show too much glare on the glass to make out any of the interior. After making their statement, Mx. Mays and their children reportedly made it safely home, though Mx. Mays apparently makes every effort to avoid shopping on the Leeuwenstraat, and they quit their job in mail delivery, stating that they preferred a more "socially active work environment," going to work instead in a busy open-plan office. They also said they acquired a small, "emotionally needy" dog that goes everywhere with them, so that they'll never be completely alone. 

Hm. Not a bad idea.

End recording.

[tape recorder clicks off]

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to desertwillow from the Rusty Quill Discord for betaing this for me. <3


End file.
